Phormio, Terence
Phormio
Terence
Category: Drama
Genres: Humor,Satire,Poetry
Level 11.691:31 h
Step into the enthralling world of Phormio, a captivating Latin comic play by the esteemed early Roman playwright Terence. Drawing inspiration from the lost play "Epidikazomenos" by Apollodorus of Carystus, Phormio takes center stage as Terence's fifth theatrical masterpiece, dazzling audiences with its wit and charm. Set against the backdrop of the Ludi Romani in 161 BC, this timeless production weaves a tale that continues to resonate as one of the finest Roman comedies ever crafted.

Phormio

by
Terence

Translated by Henry Thomas Riley, B.A.

Phormio

Persons Represented

PROLOGUE.
DEMOPHO.
CHREMES.
ANTIPHO.
PHÆDRIA.
CRATINUS.
CRITO.
HEGIO.

PHORMIO.
DORIO.
GETA.
DAVUS, and other Servants.

NAUSISTRATA.
SOPHRONA.

Scene, Athens.

Prologue

The Old Bard finding it impossible
To draw our Poet from the love of verse,
And bury him in indolence, attempts
By calumny to scare him from the stage;
Pretending that in all his former plays
The characters are low, and mean the style;
Because he ne’er describ’d a mad-brain’d youth,
Who in his fits of frenzy thought he saw
A hind, the dogs in full cry after her;
Her too imploring and beseeching him
To give her aid. — But did he understand
That, when the piece was first produc’d, it ow’d
More to the actor than himself its safety,
He would not be thus bold to give offense.
— But if there’s any one who says, or thinks,
“That had not the Old Bard assail’d him first,
Our Poet could not have devis’d a Prologue,
Having no matter for abuse;” — let such
Receive for answer, “that although the prize
To all advent’rers is held out in common,
The Veteran Poet meant to drive our Bard
From study into want: He  therefore chose
To answer, though he would not first offend.
And had his adversary but have prov’d
A generous rival, he had had due praise;
Let him then bear these censures, and reflect
Of his own slanders ’tis the due return.
But henceforth I shall cease to speak of him,
Although he ceases not himself to rail.”
But now what I’d request of you, attend:
To-day I bring a new play, which the Greeks
Call Epidicazomenos; the Latins,
From the chief character, name Phormio:
Phormio, whom you will find a parasite,
And the chief engine of the plot. — And now,
If to our Poet you are well inclin’d,
Give ear; be favorable; and be silent!
Let us not meet the same ill fortune now
That we before encounter’d, when our troop
Was by a tumult driven from their place;
To which the actor’s merit, seconded
By your good-will and candor, has restor’d us.

Act the First

Scene I

DAVUS alone.

Geta, my worthy friend and countryman,
Came to me yesterday: for some time past
I’ve ow’d him some small balance of account:
This he desir’d I would make up: I have;
And brought it with me: for his master’s son,
I am inform’d, has lately got a wife:
So I suppose this sum is scrap’d together
For a bride-gift. Alack, how hard it is
That he, who is already poor, should still
Throw in his mite to swell the rich man’s heap!
What he scarce, ounce by ounce, from short allowance,
Sorely defrauding his own appetite,
Has spar’d, poor wretch! shall she sweep all at once,
Unheeding with what labor it was got?
Geta, moreover, shall be struck for more;
Another gift, when madam’s brought to bed;
Another too, when master’s birthday’s kept,
And they initiate him. —— All this mamma
Shall carry off, the bantling her excuse.
But is that Geta?

Scene II

Enter GETA.

GETA (at entering.) If a red-hair’d man
Inquire for me ——

DAVUS. No more! he’s here.

GETA. Oh, Davus!
The very man that I was going after.

DAVUS. Here, take this! (Gives a purse.) ’Tis all told: you’ll find it right;
The sum I ow’d you.

GETA. Honest, worthy Davus!
I thank you for your punctuality.

DAVUS. And well you may, as men and times go now,
Things, by my troth, are come to such a pass,
If a man pays you what he owes, you’re much
Beholden to him. — But, pray, why so sad?

GETA. I? — You can scarce imagine in what dread.
What danger I am in.

DAVUS. How so?

GETA. I’ll tell you,
So you will keep it secret.

DAVUS. Away, fool!
The man whose faith in money you have tried,
D’ye fear to trust with words? — And to what end
Should I deceive you?

GETA. List, then!

DAVUS. I’m all ear.

GETA. D’ye know our old man’s elder brother, Chremes?

DAVUS. Know him? aye, sure.

GETA. You do? — And his son Phædria?

DAVUS. As well as I know you.

GETA. It so fell out,
Both the old men were forc’d to journey forth
At the same season. He to Lemnos, ours
Into Cilicia, to an old acquaintance
Who had decoy’d the old curmudgeon thither
By wheedling letters, almost promising
Mountains of gold.

DAVUS. To one that had so much
More than enough already?

GETA. Prithee, peace!
Money’s his passion.

DAVUS. Oh, would I had been
A man of fortune, I!

GETA. At their departure,
The two old gentlemen appointed me
A kind of governor to both their sons.

DAVUS. A hard task, Geta!

GETA. Troth, I found it so.
My angry Genius for my sins ordain’d it.
At first I took upon me to oppose:
In short, while I was trusty to th’ old man,
The young one made my shoulders answer for it.

DAVUS. So I suppose: for what a foolish task
To kick against the pricks!

GETA. I then resolv’d
To give them their own way in every thing.

DAVUS. Aye, then you made your market.

GETA. Our young spark
Play’d no mad pranks at first: but Phædria
Got him immediately a music-girl:
Fond of her to distraction! she belong’d
To a most avaricious, sordid pimp;
Nor had we aught to give; — th’ old gentleman
Had taken care of that. Naught else remain’d,
Except to feed his eyes, to follow her,
To lead her out to school, and hand her home.
We too, for lack of other business, gave
Our time to Phædria. Opposite the school,
Whither she went to take her lessons, stood
A barber’s shop, wherein most commonly
We waited her return. Hither one day
Came a young man in tears: we were amaz’d,
And ask’d the cause. Never (said he, and wept)
Did I suppose the weight of poverty
A load so sad, so insupportable,
As it appear’d but now. — I saw but now,
Not far from hence, a miserable virgin
Lamenting her dead mother. Near the corpse
She sat; nor friend, nor kindred, nor acquaintance,
Except one poor old woman, was there near
To aid the funeral. I pitied her:
Her beauty, too, was exquisite. — In short,
He mov’d us all: and Antipho at once
Cried, “Shall we go and visit her?”— Why, aye,
“I think so,” said the other; “let us go!”
“Conduct us, if you please.” — We went, arriv’d.
And saw her. — Beautiful she was indeed!
More justly to be reckon’d so, for she
Had no additions to set off her beauty.
Her hair dishevel’d, barefoot, woe-begone,
In tears, and miserably clad: that if
The life and soul of beauty had not dwelt
Within her very form, all these together
Must have extinguish’d it. — The spark, possess’d
Already with the music-girl, just cried,
“She’s well enough.” — But our young gentleman ——

DAVUS. Fell, I suppose, in love.

GETA. In love, indeed.
But mark the end! next day, away he goes
To the old woman straight, beseeching her
To let him have the girl. — “Not she, indeed!
Nor was it like a gentleman,” she said,
“For him to think on’t: She’s a citizen,
An honest girl, and born of honest parents: ——
If he would marry her indeed, by law
He might do that; on no account, aught else.”
— Our spark, distracted, knew not what to do:
At once he long’d to marry her, at once
Dreaded his absent father.

DAVUS. Would not he,
Had he return’d, have giv’n consent?

GETA. To wed
A girl of neither family nor fortune?
Never.

DAVUS. What then?

GETA. What then! There is a parasite,
One Phormio, a bold, enterprising fellow,
Who — all the Gods confound him! ——

DAVUS. What did he?

GETA. Gave us the following counsel. — “There’s a law
That orphan Girls should wed their next of kin,
Which law obliges too their next of kin
To marry them. — I’ll say that you’re her kinsman,
And sue a writ against you. I’ll pretend
To be her father’s friend, and bring the cause
Before the judges. Who her father was,
Her mother who, and how she’s your relation,
All this sham evidence I’ll forge; by which
The cause will turn entirely in my favor.
You shall disprove no tittle of the charge;
So I succeed. — Your father will return;
Prosecute me; — what then? — The girl’s our own.”

DAVUS. A pleasant piece of impudence!

GETA. It pleas’d
Our spark at least: he put it into practice;
Came into court; and he was cast; and married.

DAVUS. How say you?

GETA. Just as you have heard.

DAVUS. Oh Geta,
What will become of you?

GETA. I don’t know, faith.
But only this I know, what’er chance brings,
I’ll patiently endure.

DAVUS. Why, that’s well said,
And like a man.

GETA. All my dependence is
Upon myself.